“If you’re going to stay here, in this house, I don’t want you to touch me again.”

It was fear he saw in her eyes now. He understood it, as he felt a trace of it himself. “I didn’t expect that any more than you did. I’m not sure I like it any more than you do.”

“Then we shouldn’t have any trouble avoiding anything like this in the future.”

He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, not bothering to analyze why he was suddenly so angry. “Listen, babe, that was just as much your doing as mine.”

“You grabbed me.”

“No, I kissed you. You did the grabbing.” It gave him little satisfaction to see her color rise. “I didn’t force myself on you, Libby, and we both know it. But if you want to pretend you’ve got ice in your veins, that’s fine with me.”

The embarrassed flush fled from her face, leaving it very white and very still. In contrast, her eyes went dark and wide. The stunned hurt that glazed them had him cursing himself and stepping forward.

“I’m sorry.”

She shifted behind the chair and managed to speak calmly. “I don’t want or expect an apology from you, but I do expect cooperation.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’ll get both.”

“I have a lot of work to do. You’re welcome to take the television into your room, and there are books on the shelf by the fireplace. I’d appreciate it if you’d stay out of my way for the rest of the day.”

He dug his hands into his pockets. If she wanted to be stubborn, he could match her. “Fine.”

She waited, her arms crossed over her chest, until he strode out of the room. She wanted to throw something, preferably something breakable. He had no right to say that to her after what he’d made her feel.

Ice in her veins? No, her problem had always been that she felt too much, wanted too much. Except when it came to personal, physical, one-to-one relationships with men. Miserable, she yanked out the chair and dropped onto it. She was a devoted daughter, a loving sister, a faithful friend. But no one’s lover. She’d never experienced the driving need for intimacy. At times she’d been certain there was something lacking in her.

With one kiss, Cal had made her want things she’d almost convinced herself weren’t important. At least not for her. She had her work, she was ambitious, and she knew she would make her mark. She had her family, her friends, her associates. Damn it, she was happy. She didn’t need some hotshot pilot who couldn’t keep his plane in the air to come along and make her feel restless—and alive, she mused, running a fingertip over her bottom lip. She hadn’t known just how alive she could feel until he’d kissed her.

It was ridiculous. More unnerved than annoyed, she sprang up to pour another cup of coffee. He’d simply reminded her of something she forgot from time to time. She was a young, normal, healthy woman. A woman, she remembered, who had just spent several months on a remote island in the South Pacific. What she needed was to finish her dissertation and get back to Portland. Socialize, take in some movies, go to a few parties. What she needed, she decided with a nod, was to get Caleb Hornblower on his way, back to wherever the devil he came from.